Crucifixus
by TH3angelinH3LL
Summary: Giles, reeling from Buffy's death decides to visit the tavern in search of some release. Rated T for language, later chapters will be M. R.Giles/OFC


**AN:** This is a completely AU fiction set after Buffy died to save Dawn. This is a Rupert Giles centered fiction and my first one at that, please be kind and let me know what you think.

Natalie is an original character you may or may not recognize from my story set in AngelVerse. I intend this as sort of a 'what the hell did she do before Sense Memory' kind of fiction. I'm not sure how it collides with the Buffy/Angel time line, just pretend that it works ;D. That's what I am doing XD.

If you plan on reading these two fics containing Natalie please note neither of them are finished yet and it doesn't really matter which fiction you read first ;].

The title of this chapter is the title of a song from Repo! The Genetic Opera. AMAZING movie. See it if you haven't. Anthony Stewart Head gives a phenomenal performance and is well... deliciousness XD.

Enjoy, read, please review!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any original characters belonging to Joss Whedon or Mutant Enemy and do not profit from this work of fan fiction.

There are two songs in this chapter that do not belong to me in any way shape or form:

1) 'Tales Of Brave Ulysses' by Cream/Eric Clapton

2) 'Breathe Me' by Sia

**††††**

**Chapter One:**** Brave Ulysses**

**††††**

The night was cold, colder than most he could recall in Sunnydale California. Perhaps it was mother nature's ill fated attempt at matching the disparity rooted somewhere deep within him. Since Buffy's death he found himself -more so than usual- unable to pinpoint his emotions, thus making it impossible to begin to deal with them. But as he ducked into the bar, shaking off the fleeting feeling of cold, he reminded himself that this always helped. It was a tried and true method he had relied on for the better part of his life. There was no reason it would suddenly fail him now.

He shrugged the long jacket off, followed by his scarf, to hang them on the back of his chair for the night. Sliding into the bar stool he ordered himself a Grand Mariner straight up, laying the guitar case down gently under his feet; just a bit of liquid encouragement before he made his way to the stage. Chancing a glance up to the stage he raised a brow at the woman clambering up the stairs, struggling with the case in her hands and finally seating herself upon the stool in front of the microphone.

Easing back into the stool he took a final swallow of his Grand Mariner, signaling to the bartender to send him a refill and crossed his arms over his chest. As the sound of the drink sliding over the counter top to sit in front of him reached his ears he blindly reached a hand out for it, bringing it to his lips for a taste before returning his attention -drink at hand- back to the stage.

The woman wasn't much to marvel at and barely had any presence at all on the stage. He watched as she fumbled the guitar case open, taking the acoustic instrument into her hands. It took a few moments of fumbling with the acoustic before it was in tune, giving Rupert plenty of time to drain his glass down to the last dregs. As the bartender came back over to refill his glass, Giles meant to put a hand up in refusal but the female on stage began plucking out chords all too familiar to him.

Leaning forward on his seat, hands gripped around the bit of wood bared in the spot between his legs he listened intently for the start of the lyrics.

_'__You thought the leaden winter would bring you down forever,  
But you rode upon a steamer to the violence of the sun._

_And the colors of the sea blind your eyes with trembling mermaids,  
And you touch the distant beaches with tales of brave Ulysses:  
How his naked ears were tortured by the sirens sweetly singing,  
For the sparkling waves are calling you to kiss their white laced lips.'_

His previous notions of her stage presence were gone, leaving him mouth agape and in wonderment of how such a short -although healthy looking- girl could emit such a sultry voice.

'_And you see a girl's brown body dancing through the turquoise,  
And her footprints make you follow where the sky loves the sea.  
And when your fingers find her, she drowns you in her body,  
Carving deep blue ripples in the tissues of your mind.  
The tiny purple fishes run laughing through your fingers,  
And you want to take her with you to the hard land of the winter._

_Her name is Aphrodite and she rides a crimson shell,  
And you know you cannot leave her for you touched the distant sands  
With tales of brave Ulysses; how his naked ears were tortured  
By the sirens sweetly singing. _

_The tiny purple fishes run laughing through your fingers,  
And you want to take her with you to the hard land of the winter.'_

The song was almost over before it began and he found his eyes darting around the stage in search of the figure that had previously occupied it. After a moment's search he roused himself from his spot, guitar case at hand, and headed to the stage. As he bent removing the instrument from it's hard shell case a memory danced across the forefront of his mind, eliciting a smile and muffled chuckle. The last time he had played 'Tales Of Brave Ulysses' by Cream, Joyce Summers had been in his home, the both of them intoxicated by band candy.

Taking the acoustic into his hands he settled into the stool, leaning forward to adjust the microphone before taking a deep breath and checking that the guitar was in tune. After he was satisfied with the tuning he began to play the tune that had been stuck in his head for the past two days.

_'Help, I have done it again;_

_I have been here many times before._

_Hurt myself again today,_

_And the worst part is there's no one else to blame.'_

He could feel his voice crackling with the strain it took to remain within the range of the original female singer's (Sia).

_'Be my friend, hold me;_

_Wrap me up, unfold me._

_I am small and needy._

_Warm me up and breathe me.'_

And crackle it did, but it added a much desired hint of emotional connection to the song, making this performance that much more profound.

_'Ouch, I have lost myself again;_

_Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found, yeah._

_I think that I might break._

_Lost myself again and I feel unsafe._

_Be my friend, hold me;_

_Wrap me up, unfold me._

_I am small and needy._

_Warm me up and breathe me.' _

As the instrument fell silent by the mercy of his strumming fingers he took a deep breath before opening his eyes and gathering his things together. He murmured a quick "Thank you" into the microphone at the small applause he had received and made his clambering way off of the stage to his seat.

Placing the guitar down only to finish his drink and settle the small tab he picked it up once again after donning his coat and scarf and headed back out into the night. Puffing smoking breaths into the chilled night air he rounded the corner down the back alley, headed towards his home. A small racket in the parking lot garnered his attention, ears perking up as he turned slightly to survey the noises of frustration.

Raising an amused brow he turned his pace to the frustrated shadow in the parking lot, watching the small frame's ligaments connect with the metal of what he surmised to be a very bad car.

"Dammit Ulysses!" The woman cried into the night, fists coming down onto the severely rusted hood. "Not now."

Stepping from the shadows of the building Rupert decided to make himself known, "Ex-excuse me," A small smirk crept over his features at the shriek it elicited. "I came over to offer -um, assistance and now it seems I owe you -well, an apology." Bending slightly at the knees he rested the guitar case on the pavement by his feet, "It wasn't my intention to frighten you."

Grasping her chest over the small lump of fright she straightened herself out, hand thrusting into her inner breast pocket. As the stuttering Englishman before her bent to place his guitar on the ground she launched the wooden stake into the torso of the creature looming behind him.

Before he could think to speak another sentence the familiar death rattle of a vampire sounded behind him to the left. He jumped slightly to the right to catch the explosion of ash, '_Getting lax in your old age Rupert.'_ Turning abruptly back to face the woman before him he raised both brows, "H-how did you manage t- well I suppose that doesn't matter, does it?" Removing his glasses he retrieved his handkerchief to wipe nervously at the lenses. "One less filthy blighter and all that."

Adjusting her voice and offering a small smile she was glad she wouldn't have to breech the subject of vampires for the moment. As he placed his glasses back on his face and freed himself of the handkerchief she extended a hand, "Natalie. Most just call me Nat."

Returning the smile and the handshake he replied, "Rupert. Most don't call me at all." He raised a brow at her half smile of sympathy and trudged on to the matter at hand. "Car troubles?"

She nodded fervently, "This may just be the last tale of Ulysses." Puffing out a breath a strand of hair fleeted away from her line of vision, eyes squinting to take in the man before her. He was tall, much taller than she and, as far as she could tell in the dull lamp light, rather handsome. "You wouldn't happen to have a phone I could use?"

"No," He frowned momentarily looking down to his toes before adding, "I could do you one better." He returned his gaze back to her, "A ride?"

Leveling a scroutinous gaze on Rupert momentarily she nodded, "That would be wonderful."

Before she could bend to pick up her own instrument he bent, taking both of their guitars up. "It's just down the road." Turning on his heel he lead the way down the alley to the street he lived on. "So, tell me Nat, how long have you -have, well, have you been dealing with vampires?"

It took a moment to catch up with his long strides, tucking her car keys into her jacket pocket and pulling the fabric tighter around her. Ah, now they were back onto the topic she dreaded most. But it would seem this Englishman was wise to the underworld of the supernatural, perhaps the conversation wouldn't be quite so awkward as she previously envisioned before flinging the wooden implement at their assailant. "Since I was a little girl." Adjusting her voice over a nervous lump she continued, "As a child I was offered acceptance into a prestigious academy across the pond that deals specifically with matters of a other worldly nature." She paused for a moment listening to the sound of their footsteps echoing down the small alley before letting out into the quiet neighborhood street. "After attending a year it was quite clear that they only valued me for my tea fetching capabilities so I withdrew from the Academy and returned back here to the lovely US of A-holes."

He couldn't help but elicit a small chuckle before taking his interrogation further. "I assume you are referring to The Watcher's Academy?" He tilted his head to the side and at her questioning look offered, "Rupert Giles, former Watcher at your service." Returning his vision to the street in front of him he slowed his pace as they neared his car.

"The Rupert Giles?" Her stare was one of amazement and admiration.

Digging for his keys he unlocked the doors, resting both instruments on the hood before gently placing them in the backseat. "Should I be honored or offended that you've heard of me?"

"Honored, of course." Natalie stopped beside him, a wandering eye traveling his person before affixing once again to meet his own gaze. "Tales of your disobedience travel far and wide, sir." She gave a mock half salute much to his humorous enjoyment. "I reckon you've still got the Council shaking in their tweed booties."

Now that did honor a chuckle but the chuckle turned into a laugh much more than was needed for the situation. Taking a deep, mirth filled breath he leaned his backside against the car, "I'm sorry," Another small chuckle, "It's been a great while since I've felt compelled to laugh at anything." Taking his glasses from his eyes he used the back side of his hand to rub underneath his eyes before replacing them. "If your needing to use the phone," He gestured with a nod of his head to the house behind them, "You are more than welcome Nat."

It was odd to feel comfortable around a stranger but she accepted his invitation with a nod of her head, following him up the path to the doorway. "Thank you Rupert."

He nodded as a form of communication before unlocking the door and pressing into the house, shutting the door firmly behind her. "The phone is on the table there," He shuffled over to a small liquor cabinet, "Would you like a drink?" Bending into the recesses of the cabinet he removed a bottle of Grand Mariner and poured two drinks at her nodding acceptance of his previous offer. He watched her with a curious eye, setting a glass down in front of her.

After a few moments of dialing and then hanging up she sat forcibly back into the couch with a frustrated sigh. "Has no one heard of an answering machine?"

"I certainly haven't." Moving around the coffee table he sat on the opposite end of the couch, picking Nat's glass up and holding it out in front of her instead. "It'll help."

She took the glass with a forced smile, hunching over to rest her head in her free hand, sipping slowly from the rocks glass. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." Placing his drink on the table he reached over his visitor, turning on the Tiffany lamp above her head on the bookshelf. The closeness was a bit unnerving but they couldn't be left in the darkness brooding like some vampire. As if the very Gods were against him footsteps sounded down the stairs, signaling the arrival of his room mate. "Spike. What do you want?" He turned slightly to view the searingly blonde vampire resting at the foot of the staircase.

"Testy, testy." Pressing into the room his half laced boots clomped across the floor, mouth hanging slightly agape as he stopped short. "Nat?"

Natalie nearly flew over the side of the couch at the sight before her and instead settled for teleporting in front of the vampire. "William, how **dare** you leave me in Tripoli! After all I did for you, you... great big peroxide headed puff!" On the last word she was gone again with a soft flash of violet.

"I bloody hate it when she does that!" He peered at Rupert, "Has she done it to you yet? Just when you think she's gonna stick around!"

Rupert couldn't help but laugh, the situation was exceedingly awkward but anyone calling Spike a puff deserved a chuckle. Before he could begin to question she appeared half way down the stairs, hurrying towards Spike.

"You know I can't control it when I'm miffed! You wanking bastard!" Again she disappeared in a poof of violet light, this time entering from the kitchen taking deep, calming breaths. "Just because Dru is crazier than fat girls in leggings and decided Miss Edith wanted to go bounding off into the night on the next frigate does **not **mean you-" She poofed again, this time for a few moments.

"Right," Spike moved to take her previous seat on the end of the couch, downing her drink. "Might as well get comfortable mate. This could take a while."

He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a very angry witch, this time entering through the front door -which he could have sworn he locked.

"Have to go off into the night like a great big NANCY!" Crossing her arms over her chest she huffed, slamming her body into the space on the couch between Spike and Giles. "I am sorry for that Rupert- my drink!" She turned her attentions back to the vampire, "You've got the fucking bullocks to steal my drink as well? I-"

"Stop it! The both of you. Right now." Rupert stood, arms crossed in frustration and drink abandoned to sit upon the table.

"Uh oh. Daddy's mad."

"Spike!" Placing a hand to his forehead he took a deep breath, dragging said hand over his face in frustration. "I suggest you leave and do -well, whatever it is that you do normally."

"Gladly!" Raising himself quickly from the couch he made it a point to stick the empty glass in front of Natalie with a smug smirk. Stopping at the coat tree he grasped his duster, shoving himself out into the night air.

Natalie leaned forward cupping her face in her hands and spoke into them. "I'm sorry about that Rupert. I can't control myself sometimes."

Collecting both glasses he refilled them with a much greater measure than before. "It's alright, Spike has brought many a man and woman to various states of rage in his time. Me especially." He held out a glass to her, sitting beside her as she took it. "So, tell me Nat, how do you know Spike?"

Sitting up she downed the glass with a sputtering cough before placing it carefully on the table. "It's a long story...I'll summarize." For a moment she sat saying nothing trying to gather her thoughts into a coherent jumble and began, "You've probably spied me in your diaries under my birth name. Nefertiti."

"**The** I'm assuming?"

She nodded slowly, "I didn't lie to you before, Rupert. I have been dealing with vampires since I was in my teens and I was offered a position in the Watchers Council. I suppose they saw me better as an ally than an enemy. And that is where I heard of you."

The gears in his mind were turning, wanting to drag out a fresh diary and begin recording everything he could about the creature before him. If everything he had heard about her at the Council were true she- "Your a day walker?"

Again she nodded, casting her eyes down to her hands folded neatly in her lap.

"I'd like – that is if it's alright with you, of course, to create a diary about you."

Her eyes danced nervously for a moment around the room before settling on him again. "I suppose that would be alright." Glancing at the wristwatch she finished with, "I barely think we have time for it now."

Lifting his glass to drain the contents he placed it beside her own on the coffee table, "No of course not. We could begin at your convenience." He sucked in a short breath adding, "You hardly look Egyptian, Na-er Nefertiti."

"Please, call me Natalie Rupert. My given name brings back old memories." Taking a deep breath she passed a hand over herself, her appearance of a barely noticeable woman dissolving into that of strikingly exotic features. Once Giles was instantly pleased of.

"If-if this is how you- How did Spike recognize you?"

"William has only seen me as Natalie." A moment of worry flashed before her eyes, "If he knew what I am- what I'm capable of-"

Rupert cut her off with a raised hand and a sincerely spoken, "Not a word from my mouth. I promise."

Nefertiti smiled and nodded her thanks, rising from the couch. "How about that ride Rupert?"

Her accent shifted slightly as she adopted her natural form and he noted he quite enjoyed the way it sounded around his name. "Of course."

**††††**


End file.
